He turned to the Algerian.
"It fell when you kicked the knife from the hand of that pig," he said. "You should be more careful."
Again they exchanged significant glances, but the Algerian resumed his seat and Miguel went behind the counter. I left the cafe conscious of the fact that black looks pursued me.
The night was very dark, and as I came out on to the pavement someone touched me on the arm. I turned in a flash.
"Walk on, friend," said the voice of Jean Sach. "What was it that you picked up from the floor?"
"A golden scorpion," I answered quickly.
"Ah!" he whispered—"I thought so! It is enough. They shall pay for what they have done to me—those two. Hurry, friend, as I do."
Before I could say another word or strive to detain him, he turned and ran off along a narrow courtway which at this point branched from the street.
I stood for a moment, nonplussed, staring after him. By good fortune I had learned more in ten minutes than by the exercise of all my ingenuity and the resources of the Service I could have learned in ten months! Par al barbe du prophete the Kismet which dogs the footsteps of malefactors assisted me!
Recollecting the advice of Jean Sach, I set off at a brisk pace along the street, which was dark and deserted and which passed through a district marked red on the Paris crimes-map. Arriving at the corner, above which projected a lamp, I paused and glanced back into the darkness. I could see no one, but I thought I could detect the sound of stealthy footsteps following me.